A Line In The Sand
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: An AU of all three films focusing mostly on At World's End. Will Turner's sister has been in love with James Norrington just as long as Will has loved Elizabeth. OC warning.
1. Chapter 1

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter One**

Author's Note: I was horrified at what happened to Norrington in _At World's End_ and I've always been disappointed that Elizabeth is the only woman in the franchise. So I decided to save Norrington and create a new female character.

So, **warning! **For those of you that really aren't into original female characters, there's one here. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

Victoria Turner had loved James Norrington as long as her brother had loved Elizabeth Swann.

She still remembered that first meeting. She was curled up beside Will on that board, one white cold hand hooked round the edge, the other thrown across Will's chest; her legs trailing in the water. They took Will aboard first and she hitched herself further on the plank and stared at the faces peering down at her. Another sailor reached for her and she shrank back from him.

"_Honestly_. Out of the way."

She heard the brusque, annoyed voice and next thing she knew someone had swung over and was bracing himself against the side of the ship, hanging onto a line with one hand and reaching for her with the other. She blinked at him. He wasn't like the other man, he was in a uniform, the sparkling officer kind and his hair was tied neatly back.

"Come on," he said gently. "It's all right. You're safe, come here."

She reached up and he caught her hand, holding on so tight that it almost hurt, but it steadied her enough to allow her to haul herself to her feet. She grabbed him with her other hand and with almost superhuman strength, he swung her into his arms and carried her back to the deck, where she slithered from his arms and crawled towards Will.

Her brother was still unconscious and a girl younger than herself was watching him with a slightly anxious frown.

"Has he said anything?" her rescuer asked.

"His name's Will Turner," the girl said.

"And I'm Victoria Turner," Victoria turned and stuck out her hand. "I'm his twin sister."

The officer blinked at her and seemed amused, but he suppressed his smile and took her hand. It was tiny, lost in his long-fingered grip, but he gave it a firm shake anyway.

"Miss Turner. Lieutenant James Norrington, at your service."

* * *

Her love for him was deep, loyal, unconditional and unnoticed. He found them their places at the blacksmith, where she and Will gradually learnt their trade, though she was employed as maid only. Neither James Norrington nor Mr Brown knew of her involvement in the making of the swords, especially the Commodore's sword. She had laboured hard over the delicate filigree on the handle and her brother had put her beaming smile when she had finished down to pride. He was completely right, though he misjudged the focus of her pride.

The day Jack Sparrow came to Port Royal was a day of childish excitement for her, though she hid it and even managed a smirk at her brother's wide-eyed adoration of Miss Elizabeth Swann (in a new dress, unless Victoria was very much mistaken).

She and her brother heard about the pirate Sparrow threatening Miss Swann in the marketplace. They walked home in silence and Victoria rolled an apple between her hands and studied her brother's calm, but closed expression out of the corner of her eye. When they found Jack Sparrow in the blacksmiths, she had settled down to watch them fight, her apple in one hand and an interested look on her face. Jack barely noticed her, but he soon realised she was there when she brought a sword up to his throat when he pulled his pistol on Will.

"Now, now, sir," she said. "Play fair."

But Brown had brought an empty bottle crashing down onto Jack's head as the naval officers burst in. When Norrington had congratulated Mr Brown, he caught sight of the sword in Victoria's hand.

"Are you all right, Miss Turner?" he asked sharply.

"Perfectly fine," she paused and met his eyes. "Commodore."

He heard the unspoken compliment and treated her to a flash of that rare smile.

Later that day, aboard the_ Dauntless_, James could not have been more stunned than when Gillette cried out from his longboat, "Commodore, that's Miss Turner! Miss Turner is aboard with her brother and Sparrow!"

His disappointment in her sliced deep, but any anger he felt he directed at her fool of a brother.

"I thought better of Turner – I would not have imagined he would have involved his sister in such an escapade."

"Should we still fire, sir?" Groves asked urgently.

There was a moment of indecision. He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, stroking the delicate filigree with his thumb before his mouth set in a grim smile.

"I know enough of Miss Turner to know that she is an able swimmer."

It was not the last time she and Norrington were to be on opposite sides – the second time it happened she stood with her brother and Elizabeth beside Jack Sparrow, having sliced the rope that ought to have hung him. She might have stood against him and disappointed him, but she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

And she did.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Two**

Victoria ran away the night after Jack Sparrow's thwarted hanging, bribing a young cabin boy off the ship and taking his place and his name, Edward Smith.

James was busy and so was she, between her duties and her mounting anxiety about his behaviour. When they had set out, it had been with a great sense of camaraderie between the men; sure they would catch Sparrow and see him hanged. Several times she had had to stop herself going up to James and chatting to him in the old way they used to when they came across each other in Port Royal.

But the days passed and melted into weeks and cool, calm Commodore Norrington began – though Victoria could scarcely believe it – to lose his head. There was no more certainty about catching Jack Sparrow. James's single-mindedness brought a heightened tension to the ship, desperation to catch Sparrow that went above and beyond the need to catch any other pirate.

They had been at sea a month when the wind changed. Victoria was on deck and felt a shudder down her spine and no more than an hour later, Lieutenant Groves hurried over.

"Commodore Norrington, it's a hurricane. Unmistakable, sir."

She watched James through the fringe tumbled over her eyes and saw the momentary struggle. Part of her knew he would turn back; he would abandon this wild goose chase and return to Port Royal to await another chance to catch Sparrow. They would all be home safe and sound and her guilt over her betrayal of him could be forgotten.

But something in his eyes caused her heart to beat hard. And she knew, the instant before he said it, what he would say.

"Then we will sail through it, Lieutenant, as Sparrow undoubtedly will."

She never knew James had recognised her until the night of the hurricane. The crew had abandoned ship at his command and he was lurching across the deck, checking that everyone was gone. She was clinging to the wheel, throwing her weight against it in an attempt to turn the ship to starboard. She was certain if she could just turn the ship, they might be all right.

"Victoria!"

She looked up, startled by the use of her real name, and he was running towards her. His arms closed round her waist and when they were washed overboard, they remained locked around her, pulling her upwards. He didn't let go of her until they were safely aboard a ship bound for Tortuga.

* * *

He held her hand often in Tortuga. Not out of affection, he did it because they quickly discovered they were a good team and she would grab hold of his hand to steady herself as she launched kicks and he would tighten his grip on her and jerk her out of harm's way.

They were always thrown out and on the nights when he was too drunk to yell at the closing doors of the pub he would sink down at her side and fall asleep with his head in her lap, her fingers sliding gently through his hair. Other nights she would support him up the main street as they staggered back to the laundry woman, who had pitied the young lass dressed as a boy and the shattered man and taken them in.

He tried to kiss her once. They were sitting on the worn stone step of an alehouse, having been chucked out, but thankfully not thrown to the pigs. She was using the tips of her fingers to scrub dirt out of his beard and suddenly he reached up to tuck a long curl of her hair back up inside her hat. He had done it before, tucking her hair away before anyone else could notice, but this time, his hand lingered, twisting the lock between his fingers. Her cheeks burned as she tried to remember the last time she had washed her hair properly. Then his knuckles drifted across her cheek.

"I wonder how anyone could believe you to be a boy. You are so pretty."

"I am the image of my brother, sir. As you well know," she replied tartly, but she froze as he leaned in.

The night was cool and he was so warm she could feel it pulsing off him in waves. His breath smelt of sweet rum and it would have been so easy to let him kiss her. But when she looked at his eyes, they were distant and hazy. He was drunk and for all she knew, he could have been thinking of Elizabeth.

"No, James," she said gently, one hand on his shoulder to prevent him coming any closer. "That way lays disaster."

He frowned a little then, his head bobbing until he came to rest on her shoulder. She eased her arm round him and only a moment later he was snoring.

He never mentioned it. She was sure he didn't remember.

* * *

Victoria was not happy the day the _Black Pearl _came to Tortuga, even less happy when James approached Gibbs's desk. But soon they were fighting again and she was good at that, having picked up all her brother's skills in their years of sparring.

The boy who broke a bottle over James's head was oddly familiar and when he went to help James out of the pig muck; Victoria felt her stomach lurch with a familiar seething envy and admiration.

"Where's my brother?" she asked. "I thought you were meant to be marrying him?"

"We were interrupted," Elizabeth grunted, hauling James to his feet.

He seemed quite happy to lean on Elizabeth and Victoria was forced to trail behind, until Elizabeth slipped away from James's side to sashay up to Jack Sparrow.

* * *

It took Will a moment to realise that Elizabeth was not the only woman on Isla Cruces.

"Victoria!" he exclaimed as she catapulted into his arms.

James watched for a moment as Will swung his sister around. Victoria had not been wrong in her comment about being the very image of her brother. She had the same dark curling hair, though considerably longer, a similarly tall and slender build. When she was dressed up like a boy, the only difference between them was her lack of a beard and her pale blue eyes.

"You went with Norrington. I knew it. I heard there was a hurricane," Will said. "I thought you had died."

"Norrington saved me," she replied. "We've been in Tortuga for three months. Jack came looking for a crew and here we are."

Will looked up and scowled at Norrington, but his sister's elbow sank sharply into his ribs and he nodded, attempting a strangled sort of smile.

"Norrington."

"Turner," James replied shortly.

"I've met our father," Will said excitedly, merrily turning his attention away from Norrington.

"Our father?"

"Yes. He's aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. I'm going to save him, Vicky."

"But… Mama said he was dead?" she stepped back slightly from Will, shaking her head and frowning.

"No. But he's trapped," Will let her go and sank to his knees in front of the chest. "I'm going to kill Jones."

"Can't let you do that, William," Jack said, drawing his sword. "Because if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?"

Will stood up, snatched Elizabeth's sword from her and pointed it at Jack.

"I keep the promises I make, Jack. And I mean to free my father. I hope you're here to see it."

Victoria wasn't at all surprised and merely resigned herself to some ill-timed entertainment and wondered vaguely how long it would take before they reached some sort of truce and went back to the _Pearl_.

But then she heard the unmistakable sound of another sword being unsheathed and saw this one come up to point at Will.

"I can't let you do that either. Sorry."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," Jack, still aiming his sword at Will, grinned at Norrington.

"James!" Victoria said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it – I get my life back."

"Ah, the dark side of ambition."

"I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."

And before Victoria could voice another objection, she and Elizabeth were left to tail the men who were racing away from them, bashing away at each other. She left Elizabeth to her indignant screeching, knowing her brother and James at least to be evenly matched and Jack too much of a pirate to get hurt by either of them.

She went after Pintel and Ragetti along with Elizabeth, though they only had a sword between them. Then, as they faced Jones's crew, tossing swords to each other every few seconds, she wondered how on earth she had got to this point, and muttered darkly, "Bloody pirates."

Victoria screamed when James took the chest.

"Don't wait for me," he said it to Elizabeth, but his eyes darted to Victoria. She thought he looked sorry, but she couldn't be sure because, despite looking at her, he couldn't meet her eyes properly.

Jack grabbed hold of her when she leapt forward, screaming his name. He shoved her hard into the boat, so hard she hit her head and lay dazed for a moment at her unconscious brother's side. When she felt the boat bob, she sat up and stared at the island. She felt hollow, but the blood thumped in her veins and roared in her ears.

"You left him," she said to Jack. "You should have left me too."

"Well, love, since you're pretty nifty with a sword and haven't pointed it at me recently, I'd like to keep you on my side."

Losing James felt like a scream inside her and it didn't stop until Jack's jar of dirt smashed on the deck of the _Black Pearl_ and he knelt in the mess of it, sifting the dirt through his fingers. Her hair fluttered across her face and she turned cold as she realised that the only person who could have taken what Jack had so obviously lost was James Norrington. Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword and her ideal of James smashed into more pieces than Jack's jar of dirt.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Three**

James thought of her often out in the open sea with only the miserably, accusatory thumping heart for company. He thought of her dark curling hair and soft blue eyes. He thought of that smile, that look she got when she gazed at him. A look she had always had, one of adoration. He wondered vaguely whether Will had ever noticed. He himself had only just registered its existence.

Aboard the ship taking him back to Port Royal, he thought of the lost expression on her face when Will had stumbled ashore and said that he had met their father aboard the _Dutchman_. She had stepped back, away from her brother, her mouth falling open. He realised now that she had stepped towards _him_.

And when he lay down at night, he heard her screaming his name, the sobs catching the long howl as he ran away from her. She was in mourning.

When he tossed the heart on Beckett's desk, he thought everything was going to be all right again.

"Is that enough to buy me a commission as a privateer?" he asked, thinking of a small ship of his own. Thinking of a First Mate with curly brown hair and an adoring gaze.

"Oh, I think we can do better than that," Beckett stood up and James's lip curled involuntarily as he looked down at the small man. Beckett's hand, when he offered it to James, was tiny, lost in James's long fingered grip.

"_Miss Turner. Lieutenant James Norrington, at your service...__"_

"_Admiral_ Norrington has rather a nice ring to it, don't you think?" Beckett said in his slow, measured way. "There is an old friend of yours, just there, on the sideboard."

James recognised the box at once. He remembered placing his sword, along with his letter of resignation in the hands of a merchant who he had met once or twice in Port Royal. The man, stunned to see the Commodore in such a place as Tortuga, had refused the little money James was able to offer him. It would seem the man had been trustworthy, for here was his sword, completely intact.

He whirled it through the air, and then laid it on his forearm, the tip only inches away from the heart.

"On your command, sir," he said.

"Oh no, no," Beckett said, waving a hand lazily. "Why would I want you to do that? You see, Admiral, whoever has the heart, rules the sea."

It was when Beckett said that, that James realised he had betrayed the only woman he had ever really loved.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Four**

The lights in Tia Dalma's hut where a dull sort of orange and it was warm in a sleepy sort of way that made Victoria lean her head against the wall and draw her knees up closer to her chest.

Will was watching Elizabeth, who was staring straight ahead, her eyes empty. He had been looking like that at her ever since she clambered down into the longboat without Jack. Something about the look niggled at Victoria because there was something in it that she had never seen before, at least not levelled at Elizabeth. It looked remarkably like distrust, but it couldn't be. She narrowed her eyes and studied him as Tia Dalma passed out mugs.

The last one was thrust into her hands and her fingers closed around it automatically. She looked up at Tia Dalma and who was looking at her oddly. When Victoria realised it was pity on her face, she scowled and sat up straighter, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"There ain't nuthin' to be ashamed of in heartbreak," Tia said gently.

Victoria's fingers clenched convulsively on her mug and she stared into it, feeling something creaking inside her. Dimly, she heard the toasts raised to Jack Sparrow and tilted her mug.

"A selfish man," she added. "But who had the measure of a person better than anyone."

She gulped down most of the contents of the mug and felt it burn on the way down in a way rum never did, prickling the tears already in her eyes. She spluttered and wiped her mouth with her grimy sleeve, but no one seemed to have noticed because Tia Dalma was talking excitedly.

"What would any of you be willin' to do, hmm? Would you sail to the ends of the Earth and beyon' to fetch back witty Jack and him precious _Pearl_?"

There was a chorus of "ayes" and Elizabeth's whispered, fervent "yes."

Something like hope welled up in Victoria. It wasn't over. She didn't have to go back and settle down with that odd creaking in her chest. She could drown it out in another adventure, to World's End.

"Aye," she said, raising her glass and meeting Tia Dalma's eyes defiantly.

Tia's lips stretched back over her blackened teeth as she grinned at Victoria.

"If you gonna brave da weird and haunted shores at World's End, then you will need a Captain who knows dhose waters."

And sure enough, when Barbossa tramped down the stairs and Jack the monkey ran to him with an excitable shriek, the creaking inside Victoria was forgotten in a wave of shock and horror.

* * *

The atmosphere on Sao Feng's ship wasn't much better than it had been at Tia Dalma's and the weather only made it worse.

"Are you cold?" Will asked, his face red and frost glittering in his beard.

Victoria looked at him and he managed a smile as he sat beside her. She lifted up the blanket and he shuffled inside and put his arms around her.

"Are you all right, Will?" she said after a moment.

"I'm fine."

"Liar. You haven't been the same since you were aboard the _Dutchman_."

"I have to do what I promised. He's our father, Vicky."

"He abandoned us, Will," she said, turning her head to watch an iceberg as they passed. "And he abandoned us for no other reason than to go pirating."

"And you're saying I have a better reason to abandon _him_?"

"You love Elizabeth," Victoria shrugged, turning back to face him. "Choosing her would mean a family for you."

"Who says I'll have to choose?"

"Who says you won't?"

"You talk as though you don't want me to help him."

"It's not that. I want to see you happy, Will. And you owe him nothing, neither of us do. And right now you're sitting with me and she's over there."

"You're my sister, just like he's my father."

"And all of this started because of her. Because Barbossa took her. Because Beckett threw her in a cell. Don't lose her, Will. Or else what will all this have been for?"

He looked pensive for a moment, then looked up at her with that look she always dreaded and hated. A shrewd look of dawning comprehension.

"And what are you doing this for?" he asked.

"For you, remember? I came with you to find Elizabeth."

"And then?"

"I had a debt to be repaid," she replied shortly. "And now that I've paid it, I've come because I have nowhere else to go. There's a price on all our heads, remember? Now," she elbowed him in the ribs and snatched her blanket back from over his shoulders. "Just how long are you two going to continue not talking?"


	5. Chapter 5

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Five**

Author's Note: This is a deleted scene from _At World's End_. I think I got the general gist of it, but I haven't seen it, only heard about it, so it's very much my take on it.

* * *

"Did you know?"

James turned from giving instructions to his men and came face-to-face with Governor Swann who had stormed into the cabin.

"_Did you know?_" he repeated.

"Know what?" James asked, keeping his voice low and gently steering the Governor to the door.

"She's dead!" Swann replied, refusing to move. "Jones just told me – Elizabeth is dead!"

"She can't be," James said slowly. "I would know. How did he say she died?"

"That monster of his took Sparrow's ship."

"The _Pearl_? But… But they were all on the _Pearl_. Sparrow, Elizabeth, Will Turner and – and Victoria. Beckett would have told me if they had all perished."

He had taken the Governor's arm in a bid to calm him, but he could feel himself trembling, feel sickness lurch in his stomach. It couldn't be true. They couldn't be dead. He'd had such plans…

He heard the creak of wood and looked up to see Mercer and Beckett in the doorway.

"Is this true?" he asked. "Are they all dead? Miss Swann? The Turners? You promised me they would have letters of marque! It was part of your payment for the heart. You swore the Turners and Miss Swann would go free!"

"I did," Beckett replied. "What makes you think I have broken my promise?"

"Jones told me about the _Pearl_!" Swann cried. "I know my daughter's dead!" he made a wild snatch at James's sword and dragged it out of the sheath. James made a grab for him. "I'm ending this," Swann said, one hand on the chest. "I'll destroy him for what he's done to my daughter."

"Will ye now?"

There was the unmistakable clump of Jones's clawed leg on the wooden floor of the cabin and James drew his pistol and pointed it at him.

"Stay back, Jones. Let me deal with this."

But Jones kept coming; he leaned over the chest, his tentacles flickering only inches from Swann's repulsed face.

"You'll destroy me, will ye? And will ye carve out ye're own heart to take the place of mine? For this ship _must _have a Captain, Governor."

"Leave us."

Jones snarled, the tentacles bunching up as though into fists.

"I said. Leave us."

Jones straightened up as Beckett swept passed him. Jones cast a mocking glance at James's drawn pistol and turned haughtily to leave. James lowered the pistol, but kept it in his hand as he turned furiously to Beckett.

"Your daughter is alive," Beckett said gently, his eyes flickering from the sword to Swann's face, completely ignoring James.

"Then why would Jones say –"

"Because Jones is cruel. But my intelligence says she has been sighted in Singapore. She is alive and I intend to keep the promise I made to the Admiral. She will have her letter of marque."

"And the others?" James asked sharply. "Will Turner? Victoria?"

Beckett smirked knowingly at him and nodded, "Both sighted in Singapore with Miss Swann."

"He should – he should be stopped," Swann said weakly, still pointing the sword at the chest.

"Elizabeth would not want you to do it," James said and took the Governor's hand with his free one, gently pulling the sword from it.

"No," he said faintly. "James, I think – I think I should like to return to England."

"We can deal with that. There is a ship leaving quite soon. We will be sure you are on it," Beckett said smoothly. He glanced at James who was wearing a pained expression, still clutching his pistol, and gave him his most sincere smile. "Never fear, Admiral."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Six**

Victoria had been listening intently to the conversation between Barbossa and Sao Feng and she caught the swift glance Feng shot at Elizabeth when Barbossa mentioned Calypso.

_Calypso?_ She thought. _Surely he doesn't believe in that nonsense? Surely he can't think it's _Elizabeth_?_

But, when she looked at Elizabeth, who was giving Will a fierce glare, her chin jutting out, Victoria couldn't really blame him. If Sao Feng had to choose a sea goddess from the three women on board, it would not be the smirking witch or the pale, filthy girl dressed as a boy – it would be the golden skinned beauty. When Elizabeth agreed to go with him with a sharp comment to Will about being able to deal with pirates, Victoria knew that Sao Feng was positive she was Calypso. And for all Victoria knew, he could be right.

"You'd better take me too then," Victoria said and Sao Feng studied her hard.

"Why?"

"You can't expect her to go without a handmaiden, can you?"

"No," he replied slowly.

"Victoria," Will hissed. "Shut. _Up_. It's bad enough Elizabeth's going, I can't see you go as well."

His chains jingled as he tried to close his fingers round her arm, but she shook him off.

"You want her to be alone?"

"Then I should go -"

"No! You stay here, Will. You've done enough damage; see if you can't fix it. Now, do you intend to insult my lady by taking her without her handmaiden?" she extended her chained hands to Feng.

He glanced at Elizabeth who was clamped in Tai Hueng's hands. She had looked confused at the exchange between Will and Victoria and her mouth had opened slightly when Victoria called her "my lady," but it was the briefest of slips. By the time Sao Feng looked at her, she was standing upright, chin forward, surveying him with a cool gaze.

"Take her too," he snapped and Victoria heard the jangle of Will's chains as he reached uselessly for her.

"My lady?" Elizabeth muttered as they were helped into a longboat.

"Chin up, my lady," Victoria returned tightly, shooting a pointed glance at Sao Feng.

* * *

Being accepted as Elizabeth's handmaiden both amused and irritated Victoria. She helped Sao Feng's women dress Elizabeth before Sao Feng descended into his luxurious cabin.

"Take her to get dressed," he said to his women, his lip curling as he noted the dirt on her too-large clothes and the untidy plait no longer tucked up under her hat.

When the cannonballs hit, Victoria's hair had been unplaited and her shirt was halfway over her head. She snatched up her sword and pistol and ran out onto the deck, following Tai Hueng to the Captain's cabin.

She skidded in behind him in time to hear Elizabeth say, "He made me Captain." But before she could say anything, she was dragged from her place, leaning in the doorway of the cabin, out onto the deck. Tai Hueng and Elizabeth followed and were also seized.

"You are not my Captain," Tai Hueng snapped at Elizabeth.

"You're not my First Mate," she retorted. "Victoria, you've just been promoted."

When they were thrust before the Admiral, he noticed Elizabeth, in her elaborate get-up, first.

"Elizabeth!" he caught hold of her in a brief, euphoric hug.

He opened his eyes when Elizabeth was in his arms and noted Victoria. They darted back to her as he recognised his friend beneath the grime on her pale face and he felt a grin blossom across his face as he let Elizabeth go.

Victoria's eyes didn't widen and crinkle at the edges. That old adoring look had become one of pain and disappointment.

"_Victoria?_"

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. His head settled in the crook of her shoulder and he breathed deeply.

"Jones said you were dead."

She didn't stiffen or pull away; she just stood there until he let her go.

"He said you were all dead," James said, looking from one girl to the other. "Elizabeth, your father will be overjoyed."

"My father is dead," Elizabeth said and her tone was unnecessarily hard. That is, until Victoria realised that Elizabeth wasn't stating a fact – she was making an accusation.

"No. He returned to England."

But even as he said it, Victoria saw the uncertainty on his face.

"Did Beckett tell you that?"

"Now is not the time, Captain," Victoria said. "And I believe you ought to be sending us to the brig, Admiral."

As he gave his instructions, Victoria found Elizabeth's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. When James offered the Captain and her First Mate his quarters, Victoria let Elizabeth refuse and silently made to follow her. But James stopped her, his fingers sliding up her arm to take hold of her elbow.

"Please," she said. "Please don't touch me, James."

She said it as though in pain and he let her go slowly, his fingers sliding down the way they came. His bent index finger caressed her knuckles and he looked hard into her eyes.

"I didn't know. Victoria, I swear I didn't know about Governor Swann."

She shook her head and walked away from him to where Elizabeth stood, refusing to move. She slipped her arm around Victoria's shoulders, cast James a dark look, and finally allowed herself to be shunted towards the brig.

* * *

"Bootstrap?"

"Elizabeth, please…"

"Bill Turner?"

"Elizabeth."

"Bill Turner?"

"Elizabeth! Stop it! _Now_!"

"You know my name."

Victoria had leapt across the cell to grab Elizabeth. She dug her fingers hard into Elizabeth's arms and twisted her violently away from the bars. They froze, staring at each other when they heard the third voice and slowly looked at the man dragging himself out of the wall.

"Yes," Elizabeth said again, tearing herself out of Victoria's dumbfounded and suddenly lax grasp. "Yes. I know your son."

"William?"

"Yes. And this – this is his sister, Victoria. Your daughter," she gestured behind her, but Victoria was already taking a step back. Elizabeth grabbed her hand and pulled her closer.

Victoria would never forget those chilly blue eyes or the damp, rotting coldness of her father's hand on her face as it ghosted across her cheekbone.

"You look like your brother. Your brother, he's coming for me. He sent you to tell me, didn't he?"

"No. No, he didn't," Victoria shook her head, shrinking away from him. Her mother had said he was a handsome man, that her brother would grow to look like him. But Victoria could trace no semblance of Will in that lost face.

"He's _trying_," Elizabeth said, frowning at Victoria.

Victoria slunk back, horrified, as her father and Elizabeth talked. She memorised the details of his vaguely green face, the carbuncles, dripping starfish. Her father was retreating back into the wall and Victoria traced his outline and memorised the points where he became the wall. "_I_ wouldn't pick me."

She was sliding down into a corner by the time he looked up and said "You know my name," again.

"Elizabeth," she sighed. "Leave him be. _Please_."

She stayed in that corner for what felt like hours, watching Elizabeth pace. She leant her head on her knees and didn't look up until she heard the scurry towards the front of the cell. She looked up then, her vision hazy and saw James Norrington standing there in the open doorway.

"Come with me. _Quickly_."

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked.

"Choosing a side," he said firmly, standing aside to let Elizabeth out. His hands tightened around the bars of the cell as he leaned forward, meeting Victoria's eyes to drive his point home. "_Your_ side."


	7. Chapter 7

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Seven**

Author's Note: This was the scene that started it all. This was the reason I wanted to write this fic. And yes, I kept _that_ line and directed it at Victoria rather than Elizabeth. But given that it was the best line James had the whole film, can you blame me?

* * *

"Come with us... James, come with me."

At the second plea, Elizabeth's tone had changed and she was looking at him. Unable to watch them together, Victoria scanned the deck and a brief glance upwards showed her father shuffling to look down at them. Her heart shook strangely in her chest as she turned to warn the others.

"Who goes there?" her father called, before Victoria had even opened her mouth.

"Go," James said, pushing Elizabeth back and drawing his sword. "I will follow."

"You're lying!"

"Go!" Victoria cried, exasperated, staring at the place where her father had stood looking down at them. "Go, Elizabeth," she said again, hurrying over to physically urge her towards the line. "I will make him follow. Hurry _up_, Captain."

Elizabeth cast a look at Victoria, then at James, before squeezing Victoria's hand and swinging up onto the line.

"Hurry up, Victoria," there was a hard edge to Elizabeth's voice. "That's an order."

"You _are_ lying, aren't you?" Victoria said to James as Elizabeth shimmied away.

"Victoria," he looked at her hopelessly. "Our - our destinies have been entwined, but never joined. You _must_ go."

He reached for her elbow to guide her to the line, but she jerked away from him before he could touch her.

"You _are_ coming with us," she retorted fiercely. "You let us go – you're a traitor." He winced at that and her voice took on a desperate ring as she added, "You'll _hang_."

When he looked at her, her eyes were wide and adoring once more. But not in the old cheerful way. He had glanced back when he had run away with the chest and though she was screaming; her eyes had been open and focused on him. It was the same desperate, lost look she had now.

"I will accept the consequences of my actions," he said tightly. It was possibly the hardest thing he had ever said.

"_I_ won't," she was holding him now. Her hands were tight on his arms, twisting in the fabric of his uniform and she had stepped close enough that her chest was pressed against his. He was looking down at her, bewildered and she saw something in his face, something like the hazy, smiling look he used to have when looking at Elizabeth.

But it lasted a mere second before they heard the shuffling behind them and turned to face her father.

"Back to your station, sailor," James said, drawing his sword and pushing her behind him.

"No one leaves the ship," her father replied, confused.

"Stand down," James said again, but his voice wavered slightly.

_He thinks he's going to die here_, Victoria realised.

"Father," Victoria blurted, pushing past James and stepping between them. Her father was clutching a long and jagged plank. "It's all right."

"Stand down. That's an order," James said, but she waved her hand at him to make him quiet.

"That's an order," her father repeated with a sigh. "Part of the crew, part of the ship"

"It's me, Victoria. Victoria Turner. You're Bill Turner – I'm your daughter. I'm Will's sister."

"Part of the ship, part of the crew."

"Steady, man!" James cried, pushing Victoria to one side again.

"All hands! Prisoner escape!"

"Belay that!" James shouted, snatching his pistol out of his belt.

"James!" Elizabeth cried. "Victoria!"

He turned, a wretched and hopeless look on his face and shot down the line, snapping at Victoria, "Over the rail. Go! _Now!_"

Victoria saw her father glance at the distracted Admiral and step forward, but she came closer, extending one hand to him, to intervene.

"You heard him," she said and this time her voice was hard and shaking with anger. "He said, _stand. Down_."

But her father wasn't looking at her, he was looking at James and she saw the plank move towards him.

It only took an instant to close her hand over James's, wrapping her hand over his round the hilt of his sword. Her other hand came down on top and she threw her weight against it. He was only just turning back from shooting down the line and his weight sank against her in surprise. When she looked up, the sword was in her father's stomach, embedded in the wall behind him and he was staring down at it in mild surprise. Her heart shook again, trembling rather closely to her jolting and churning stomach.

She felt James's hands shift under hers and she snatched her hands away as her father met her horrified gaze. She grabbed hold of James's coat and dragged him to the edge of the ship.

"Consider our destinies joined," she choked out as she hoisted herself up onto the rail. She tightened her fingers in his coat and wrapped her legs round his waist so quickly that he didn't have time to protest. When she threw herself backwards, she hauled him overboard too.


	8. Chapter 8

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Eight**

Author's Note: Here's where things change because Norrington's now part of the action. I suppose this is the line in the sand - the point where my story really does diverge from canon. However, I have no intention of trying to recreate the battle sequence, because it would be very long and I would be completely unable to do it justice. So, I'll just highlight the main points and say where James and Victoria were.

* * *

Elizabeth was stunned when Victoria crawled on deck, turning to help a waterlogged James aboard.

"You came," she said distantly, as though she hadn't believed he would.

"I had no choice," he muttered.

"Come below," Victoria said. "I'll find you some dry clothes. You can't go before the Court dressed like that. Excuse me, Captain Swann."

He followed her below deck, his uniform cold and heavy, dripping water in his wake. He felt like one of Jones's men, oozing water all over the place and felt an odd sort of lurch inside him as he realised she had saved his life. He broke his concentration for a moment, determined to see both women off the ship and had she not stepped in, he would be dead. Jones would be offering him a place before the mast. He squinted through the gloom and could see her riffling around for clothes as though nothing had happened.

_"Father. It's all right... It's me. Victoria. Victoria Turner. You're Bill Turner - I'm your daughter. I'm Will's sister."_

That man had been her father.

James stood watching her, a puddle forming around his feet, feeling like a fool. She had impaled her father - pinned him to the ship. She had done that to save him. Because he hadn't been paying attention.

Above, he heard the drum of boots, Elizabeth's shrill orders

"She's making for Shipwreck, isn't she?" he said thickly.

"We don't have a choice. There's nowhere else. There's _nothing_ else. You picked a losing side, Norrington. Here," she tossed him a pair of trousers. "They look like they'd fit. Here's a shirt. There's some spare boots over there. I'll get you a sword."

He grabbed her as she went to leave, harder than on the _Dutchman_, but in the same place, in the crook of her elbow.

"We must speak."

"Later. Get changed. There isn't time for this now."

"Where is Will?"

She was halfway up the stairs when he asked and he couldn't see her face, but her hands were trembling at her sides.

"I don't know," she replied after a moment. "He remained with the _Pearl_ when Elizabeth and I came to the _Empress_," she came down a few steps so that she could lean over the rail. "But he's still alive. Of that I'm certain."

She came back when he was straightening his sleeves and handed him a new sword.

"It's not as good a sword as yours, but it will do."

"No," he studied the sword. "But that was an exquisite piece. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful in my life. You and your brother are very talented," she gave him a sharp look, surprised. "I am not always a fool, Victoria."

They looked at each in silence for a moment. He still had not mentioned what had happened on the _Dutchman. _She took a step towards him and raised her hand. Her fingers skimmed past his cheek and up to his hair. She slipped her fingers under his wig and pulled it off. She squeezed it in her fist and the sound of water rattled against the floor. He put his hand over her clenched fist.

"I'm sure you're father will be all right."

"I know he will," she said roughly, but she turned a sickly white and he heard the slop of his wig hitting the floor as it slipped from her suddenly limp fingers.

"He'll forgive you."

"It won't matter. He won't remember."

She was gulping hard, but James pressed the point ruthlessly, almost cruelly. He wasn't sure why he asked the question, only that he needed to know and that this might be his only chance.

"Would you… Would you still have done it, if you thought it would hurt him?"

"Would I have chosen you, you mean?" he nodded and she pulled her hand away from his and sighed. "Yes, I would."

"Why?"

She gave him a look that was almost pitying. She managed a weak, sad smile and walked away from his as she said, "You are not always a fool, Norrington."

* * *

"How did you convince him to leave the _Dutchman_?" Elizabeth asked, sitting down beside Victoria, who was coiling a length of rope with unnecessary concentration.

"I didn't," Victoria shrugged. "I dragged him overboard."

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up and Victoria bristled slightly.

"You asked him to come with us. I was only following your orders."

"It's not that. It's just…" Elizabeth searched the deck for him and watched for a moment, as he helped Tai Hueng adjust the sails. "You've always loved him, haven't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Victoria asked sharply.

"You followed him through a hurricane, Vicky," Elizabeth said gently. "And you've always been… close. He was always interested in how you were getting on. And I remember how you would follow him all over the ship when we were sailing to Port Royal."

Victoria went to pick up the rope, but Elizabeth grabbed it and forced her to stop.

"We've never been close, you and I, have we?"

"Captain, I really must get on –"

"I know you think I took Will away from you –"

"You didn't," Victoria replied, more fiercely than she had intended. "Will is my brother. He will always be my brother. But… for fourteen years, Will was mine and then he met you and I had to share him. He loves you so much and I – I suppose I never thought I'd lose him to another woman."

Elizabeth pulled the rope towards her, forcing Victoria to sit down again.

"He thought you died in that hurricane – we were so certain you were with James. We postponed the wedding for three months. He's always talking about you. When we were coming to Port Royal, while James was showing you the ship and Will was recovering, he talked about you so much. I envied you."

"I'm just his sister, Elizabeth. I'm nothing to envy."

"Neither am I," Elizabeth said, so softly that Victoria barely caught it. Elizabeth's eyes flickered to James and Victoria followed her glance. "I treated him badly. But you have never wavered."

"Much good it has done me. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I really should get back to my duties. We must make Shipwreck by nightfall. Will'll be worried."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, standing up. "About both of us."

* * *

If Jack had been surprised to discover that Elizabeth was now Captain Swann, it was nothing to the surprise he felt when he realised who the tall man at Victoria's side was.

"Commodore?" he cried, then turning incredulously to Elizabeth. "Your first act as Captain is to bring the Scourge of Piracy before the Court?"

There was the immediate thunder of chairs and the metallic clicks of pistols being cocked and swords drawn.

"Former Admiral actually," Victoria replied quickly, drawing her pistol. "Which means he has information that could save our lives."

"Which means you _will_ lower your weapons," Elizabeth added.

Barbossa, rolling his eyes, gestured at the others to lower their weapons.

"What were you saying about a traitor leading the Armada here?" Victoria asked Jack.

"If there is a traitor, he's hardly likely to be among us," Barbossa interjected quickly.

"Where's Will?" Elizabeth glanced round the table, then looked at Jack for an explanation.

"Not among us," Jack replied, shooting Elizabeth a smirk.

"But there is a traitor among us," Gentleman Jocard said, pointing to James. "Admiral says you. Enemy, says I."

"He rescued us from the _Flying Dutchman_," Victoria said.

"Which means I'm as likely as any of you to hang as a traitor," James added. "But I do have information about the Armada – its size and strength. Its possible battle plan. That is, if you intend to go to war with them."

"This is all your fault," Jack muttered to Victoria. "You had to bring that bloodthirsty pirate along when I'm trying to keep the peace."

* * *

Victoria insisted in accompanying them to the sandbank for the Parley: "I don't want to interrupt your meeting. I'll wait in the boat. I want to see Will."

And James, despite the disgruntled look she threw him, said he would come too: "I'm a stronger rower than Miss Turner. And we can't have the Pirate King and two Captains' rowing themselves ashore, can we?"

When Barbossa, Jack and Elizabeth left them in the boat, Victoria fell silent and stared down the bank to where Beckett, Jones and Will were waiting.

"I can't believe it," she muttered. "I never thought he'd go this far to save our father. He must have a reason."

When James looked at Victoria; her expression was like a dragging claw in his heart. She was glowering at her brother's figure at the end of the sandbank, her lips were curved down and her eyes were wide with disappointment.

She watched as Jack and Will switched places and scrambled out of the boat, squinting in the sun for a better look.

"Something's happened," James commented. "They wouldn't give Jack to Beckett without good reason."

"But what good reason?" Victoria asked. "What can Jack do for us on the _Dutchman_?"

She ran to meet them when they turned back to return to the boat.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Why did you give them Jack?"

"He's a fool," Will answered cryptically. "And he has a cause to fight for."

She stared at him and he placed a hand deliberately on his hip and ran his finger across the dagger he had tucked there. She didn't understand for a moment, until she heard his voice, from back when they were sailing to World's End, _"Our father gave me this."_

"You really have got the hang of thinking like Jack, Will," she commented as they reached the boat.

"And you're still full of surprises, Vicky," Will replied, casting a look at James and inclining his head. "Norrington."

"Mister Turner."

James turned swiftly away from Will to hand Victoria into the boat. As he climbed in himself, he realised she was stilling holding his hand.

"And so," she said. "We are at war."

He squeezed her hand and was pleasantly surprised to feel her squeezing back.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A Line In The Sand  
**_**Chapter Nine**

They remembered how to fight together as though they had never been apart. James was suddenly grateful for those mid-afternnon sparring sessions she had insisted upon in Tortuga. At the time, he had indulged her because he was thankful she didn't nag about his drinking. Now, he saw them for what they were – her attempt to protect him, to keep him on the ball. Perhaps he had those sparring sessions to thank for the amount of times he walked away, relatively unscathed, from another brawl.

"I believe," he grunted, kicking hard at a crew member of the _Dutchman_. "That your brother is getting married."

He grabbed her arm and jerked her back so that her back rested against his chest. She fought an enemy in front of her and he swiped at one to his right.

"So – it – would – seem," she gasped, moving away and positioning herself back-to-back with him. "Though I would have thought – I would be asked to be – _bridesmaid_."

He gave a short laugh and she grinned at him, her hair plastered miserably over her face.

Neither of them left to board the _Dutchman_, they stayed on the _Pearl_ with Gibbs and Barbossa. They were back-to-back again when he felt her stagger and he spun immediately, terrified that she had received a blow. He looped an arm around her waist and dragged her back to the helm.

"What is it?" he asked. She shook her head, pushing him away. "Are you all right? Victoria?"

"Will," she whispered, looking over at the _Dutchman_.

"He's fine," James answered curtly, dragging her to her feet. He brought his sword up to crash against one that was whistling down towards him. "We're not. _Come on_."

She blinked, then drove her foot up into the attacker's crotch before letting James help her to her feet.

When Elizabeth and Jack came back alone, Victoria grabbed James's hand and her knees buckled so that Barbossa had to grab her other arm to steady her. Elizabeth met her eyes for only a fraction of a second and Victoria pressed her hand to her mouth, trembling hard all over.

"Pull yourself together, Miss Turner," Barbossa said. "There's still a fight to be had and ye're brother'd not want to you to mourn his passing just yet."

But the _Dutchman_ reared up from beneath the waves and Elizabeth smiled. Victoria stared at her, astonished, as she realised that she must have known this was coming. She glanced at Jack, who gave a weak sort of smile and shrug. James stepped nearer to her and heard her soft whimper, "_No_."

She screamed "Fire!" with the rest of them and watched with grim triumph as the _Endeavour_ shattered and sank down beneath the waves and the Armada drew off. But the whole time, James watched her because her face was closed and cold and it scared him. Victoria went to the rail and stared across the debris scattered space at her brother, emerging from his triumphant crew, an ugly gash cut down his chest.

His smile faded when he met her eyes and he seemed to shrink a little, as though ashamed. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but stopped herself, shaking her head. When she met his eyes again, she was able to muster a watery smile, which he returned rather weakly, before she turned away.

She was at the head of the line that had assembled to see Elizabeth, their Pirate King, into her longboat. They looked at each for a moment. Victoria stared at this woman who was now her sister. This woman who she had envied until it hurt her, whose beauty she had so fervently admired, whose actions she had often silently disagreed with, whose bravery she had respected.

And suddenly, though neither knew who had done it first, they had their arms around each other and were hanging on tightly, as though they had realised all they had was each other.

"What are you going to do?" Victoria whispered.

"I'll wait for him," Elizabeth returned, a fiercely determined note in her voice, "I'll wait for as long as I have to."

"On Shipwreck?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"You don't want to come," Elizabeth answered and pulled away enough to look her sister-in-law in the eye. "It's not the place for you. I'll be all right. I am King after all. And you'll visit me?"

"Of course. Elizabeth, tell him I love him, won't you?" Victoria snatched desperately at Elizabeth's shirt. "That I have _always_ loved him and always will, no matter what. Make sure he and my father know I'm sorry, _deeply_ sorry. Tell them that one day I'll earn their forgiveness."

Elizabeth frowned and Victoria realised that she didn't know what she was referring too. She hadn't seen what had happened on the deck of the _Dutchman_.

"Will you tell him, Elizabeth?"

"I will," and Elizabeth grinned at her. "Sister."

They hugged again, quick and brief, not that desperate embrace of before. They would never hold each other like that again. Elizabeth turned to James next and smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered and as she pulled away, he saw her glance at Victoria, then back at him.

Barbossa nodded at her, bidding "Mrs Turner" farewell. When she went to kiss Jack, he reared back, hands up.

"Once was enough," he said.

She hesitated, then leaned forward, close enough to hiss in his ear, "Be a brother to her, Jack. For my sake."

The puzzled and surprised look he gave her when she pulled away was also a promise. No sooner was she in the water than Jack yelled orders to weigh anchor, Barbossa darting after him to give his own orders.

"Miss Turner, I'd like to see you in my cabin, please," Jack said, as Gibbs went to the helm.

"_Your_ cabin, Jack?" Barbossa asked with an arched eyebrow as Victoria nodded and went into the Captain's cabin.

"Aye. Where else would the Captain conduct an interview?" Jack asked, stepping smartly into his cabin and snapped the door shut in Barbossa's face. Victoria heard the click of the lock and turned in time to see the door rattle as Barbossa thumped it.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Miss Victoria Turner. Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

Her expression grew cold as she sank into a chair and glowered at him.

"I believe I have already proved that. Several times."

"Of course you have, darling, else I wouldn't be making you this offer."

"And what offer would that be, Jack?"

"I suppose Elizabeth told you before she left that she intends to stay on Shipwreck and wait for your William?"

"She may have mentioned it."

"And, given that we're sailing away from Shipwreck and you're still here, I suppose you've no intention of living on Shipwreck with her?"

"Will loves Elizabeth and she has always been kind to me, but I won't be staying with her, Jack. Will would return in ten years to find we'd killed each other."

"True," he plonked himself in the chair opposite her. "So, the way I see it, you've two options."

"The first one being?"

"You're a bit handy with that sword of yours and you know how to sail a ship. And, seeings as your brother and father are crewing the _Dutchman_ and your sister-in-law is staying where she will be worshipped and adored as Pirate King, you've no one else in the world. So why not join my crew?"

She had shifted slightly in her seat when he said she had no one else, as though she had wanted to contradict him. But when he made the offer, she stopped fidgeting and gawped at him.

"_Your_ crew? I thought you and Barbossa had split the ship – did you not split the crew as well?"

"No need to quibble, love."

"And what's the other option?" she had narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"The other option?" he frowned, confused.

"You said I had two options. What's the other one?"

"Well, that's it. You either join the _Pearl_ crew or you don't. Two options, one choice, take your pick."

"Hardly a choice, is it, Jack? I mean, I either crew the _Pearl_ or what? That's no choice at all."

He had one hand on his belt, one leg crossed over the other and the fingers of the other hand caressed his beard.

"Perhaps this will help," he tossed something to her and she caught it automatically.

She looked down and in her hand was his compass.

"What makes you think I don't know my heart?" she asked sharply and tossed it back to him.

"The fact that you have neither accepted nor declined my fair – nay, _generous_ – offer implies there is something else you have in mind. I always find this little beauty does the job for me."

He threw it back and she caught it, though her eyes never left his and her face was white with fury.

"I know my heart, Jack," she threw it hard this time so that it stung his palm when he caught it one-handed.

A wicked grin blossomed across his face and he leaned towards her.

"Then perhaps – you know what you want, but are loath to claim it as your own?"

"Don't push me, Jack. Do you want me on your crew or not?" she snapped.

"That's the thing. As I said, you're a fair swing with a sword, a good sailor. You'd make a fine addition to the crew. And you're loyal. And maybe that's the problem. You'd make a good pirate – but you're honest. You're straight as an arrow, Vic, you and I both know it. This whole time, you've never lied or cheated. The worst you've done is keep your mouth shut until the opportune moment."

"So you don't think I'd make a good pirate?"

"I think you'd make a _great_ pirate. I just wonder what it will cost you."

She rubbed her hands together and gazed out of the window, leaning back in her chair.

"I take it you have a heading?"

"Aye. Tortuga. We should be there by tomorrow morning."

She stood up, stretching slightly, feeling suddenly tired.

"Then might I request that I give you my decision once we've reached Tortuga?"

"Course, darling. A woman must have time to mull these things over."

"Thank you."

"Vic?"

"Yes?" she turned back to look at him and caught the compass.

"Just take it. No one says you've got to use it."

She weighed it in her hand for a moment, pulling her arm back as though to chuck it back. But instead she sighed and tucked it in her belt.


	10. Chapter 10

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Ten**

Jack lounged in the doorway and watched her go, striding down the deck, calling to Mister Gibbs for orders. Barbossa glowered malevolently at Jack.

"Mind telling me what you're up to?"

"It's nothing to do with the ship, mate. I'm just being a brother," Barbossa stared at him, confused, and Jack took advantage of Barbossa's stunned silence to wave at James. "Ah, Mister Norrington. Please join me in my office. Hector will finish that."

James looked up from the rope he was tying off and glanced at Barbossa who was studying Jack. Barbossa cast a look down the deck, from James Norrington to Victoria Turner, who was studiously ignoring the man at whose side she had fought barely an hour before.

"Master Ragetti!" Barbossa yelled. "Get and tie that rope off, you lousy cur!"

Ragetti snatched the rope from James and reluctantly, James followed Jack into the cabin.

"I feel obliged to tell you that I have offered Miss Turner a place on my crew," Jack said, as he shut the door.

"Why?" James's answer was sudden, his expression wide and horrified.

"Do you really have to ask, mate? Girl's a fine sailor – a fine swordswoman. And she has no one in the world."

"Did she say that?" James asked tightly.

"She didn't contradict me when I said it."

"I see. Why are you telling me?"

"Thought I'd warn you that if you were after talking to her, now is the _opportune_ moment."

Jack was leaning against the table, arms folded, looking vaguely annoyed, though James couldn't fathom why.

"She's agreed then?"

"She'll give me her answer when we dock in Tortuga."

"But you think she will agree?"

"No idea, mate. I'd love to have her," he shot James a wicked grin. "But, Elizabeth asked me to look after her and I figure I ought to give you a fair chance or I'll have her moping about and I can't be doing with that. I'm in with a shot though. The blood that runs in her veins is pirate – it's as salty as you or I's."

"Then it hardly seems worth your while to warn me, if you believe yourself so certain of success," James retorted, feeling suddenly as though he had lost his sea-legs.

"All depends what you offer her, mate," Jack shrugged. "And whether you're capable of offering it."

* * *

When James left Jack's cabin he saw Victoria leaning over the rail, staring at the horizon and he could barely contain or understand the emotions he felt as he looked at her. There was an uncomfortable, fidgeting anger in him, a desperate need to reach out and grab her tight, shake her and hold her 'til she was crushed. A violent reaction that he both longed to indulge and wished to quell, for he had certainly never felt it before.

And then there was the other feeling. A warm feeling. Like butter dripped into a warm pan, melting and warming slowly, spreading throughout his body. It gushed up inside him in a way that was by now familiar and yet still surprising.

"Are you all right?" he asked suddenly, thinking of the silent final exchange he had witnessed between her and her brother.

"As well as can be expected."

"Victoria, as we have finished fighting -"

"Have we?" she glanced at him and he remembered that there had been no point between taking the heart and now for him to explain himself. And she was still angry at him.

"I meant the Armada, but since you bring it up, can we not call a truce? We must talk. There is so much that you deserve to know – that _I_ deserve to have you hear."

She gave him a hard look and nodded. To his surprise, she sat down on the deck, pulling out the compass to have something to occupy her hands with. He sat at her side and leaned back against the rails.

"As we are being honest with one another, might I ask a question first?"

"Of course. Ask me anything."

"Why did you do it, James?" as she said his name, she met his eyes. "Why did you take the heart?"

"Why do you think?" it wasn't sarcastic, otherwise she would have walked away. He was asking softly and there was a note of trepidation in his voice.

"Elizabeth said it was to get your place back, become Commodore again," Victoria looked away, at Shipwreck shrinking behind them. "But that was after she realised her father was dead."

"Is that what you thought?"

"It seemed the only explanation. And yet I had trouble reconciling that selfish act with the man who served others before himself. I found it hard to believe you could have changed so much."

She was eager for his answer, though she kept the eagerness out of her voice. She wanted nothing in the world so much as to hear him tell her it wasn't a selfish impulse. Or, at least, not entirely so.

"It wasn't what Elizabeth thought. I took the heart thinking that it would buy me a commission as a privateer," she shot him a look of amazement and this time, she did not look away, but kept her eyes on him as she waited for him to go on. "That is what I asked Beckett for. He returned my sword to me and I intended to stab the heart, I believed that is what he wanted it for. I thought he wanted to stop Jones, to ensure safe passage for his ships. I did not know he wanted to control Jones. I certainly did not know the fate that awaited he who stabbed the heart."

"Why did you want to be a privateer?" she asked, mystified. "The heart of Davy Jones – surely you thought that to be worth more?"

"It didn't matter to me. All that mattered was that I would have a commission, a ship of my own. I couldn't be a pirate and I thought perhaps the Navy would be a hindrance. All I wanted was to have my freedom and to have something to offer."

"Offer?" her face scrunched up in puzzlement and he wanted to trail his finger down her furrowed nose.

"You," he reached over and touched her hand, stilling the fingers fidgeting over the compass. "I wanted to offer you a life. I wanted to show you I could provide for us."

"And why would you want to offer me a life?" her voice was shaking.

"Because that is what one does when one proposes marriage."

She jerked her fingers away so sharply that the compass rolled off her lap and bounced onto the deck where it sprung open. She picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand.

She remembered peering over Elizabeth's shoulder, watching the needle waver before settling on Jack. The needle did no such thing in her hand, the moment it touched her, it swung to her right.

"I have nothing in the world," she said quietly. "My father and brother are aboard the _Dutchman_. Elizabeth will be staying on Shipwreck. She at least has my brother's word that he will come back for her. What is it about Elizabeth Swann that makes men want her so much?"

"I don't know," he answered, frowning slightly as he stared at the compass point that was pointing, inexplicably, at him, keeping his arms rigidly at his side.

"When you looked at her, something inside me _ached_."

"I never meant to cause you pain."

"But you did," there was an odd edge to her voice now, bordering on shrill. "Over and over again. And yet, when I hold this bloody compass, it still points to you. And that isn't fair."

She gave a sob of laughter, a wild, hysterical sort of sound and she pressed her wrist to her mouth in a bid to quiet it.

"No, it's not. It's more than I deserve."

She snapped the compass shut, struggled up and clutched at the rail, leaning far out and gulping at the cool salty air. He stayed on the deck, his head close enough that he could rest his forehead on her thighs.

"Jack offered me a place on the _Pearl_," she said after a moment.

"He told me. Will you take it?"

"I don't know," she glanced down at him. "What would you say if I took it? Would you stand by me then?"

"If you wanted me to. It's your choice, you know what I want. I am at your command."

"You could never serve under Jack – you couldn't bear it."

"I would bear it for you."

"You shouldn't say things like that," she muttered, turning away from him, to her relentless gazing. "I – I have done things that do not deserve such… rewards."

She sighed and it was not one of exhaustion or irritation, but one of longing. He stood up then, scrambling to his feet. He took her shoulders and pulled her to him to study her face. She looked lost, her mouth trembling and tears swimming in her eyes. His hopeful grin melted away and he loosened his death grip on her arms.

_"All depends on what you offer her, mate. And whether you're capable of offering it."_

Looking at her, that frantic look in her eyes, James realised he had no idea of what to offer her, much less whether he was capable of offering it. There had been a time when he had known precisely where they stood with one another. She was his friend, he had spent years ignoring how important she was, how empty his evening walks were if she were unable to join him. After his idiotic, drunken attempt to kiss her, he had been so thankful she had pushed him away and had acted the next day as though nothing had happened. He had pretended the rush of disappointment was a hangover and leaned over the bucket she left by the chair.

They were friends. They had only ever been friends. And suddenly he wasn't sure if they were even that anymore. He had no idea what to say to her, having been so selfish as to ask her to choose, when he was unable to voice his gratitude for the thing she had had to do to save his life.

"I just wanted you to know," he said, starting to back away. "Perhaps you can tell me in Tortuga."


	11. Chapter 11

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Eleven**

It was early when they docked in Tortuga, so early that the streets were empty and it was oddly silent. For someone like James who had lived in bustling Tortuga for three months, it was disconcerting.

"Could they have heard about the Armada?" he asked, staring round at the deserted streets.

"It's always this quiet this early," Victoria said. "That's why I used to go swimming at this time every morning. The traders will be out in an hour or so."

"I didn't know you went swimming."

"You were always asleep," she glanced at him, as though suddenly aware they were talking for the first time since the previous day and moved away from him. "Excuse me, I've got to speak to Jack."

She found him in the cabin, arguing with Barbossa over the supplies they needed and when they ought to leave.

"I've got my answer, Jack," she said loudly.

"Answer? And what answer would young Miss Turner be referring to, I wonder?" Barbossa was looking at Jack, who pulled a face and shrugged – feigning innocence.

"I'm not staying with the _Pearl_," she went on, ignoring Barbossa's incredulous glance at Jack. "So I'll not be needing this anymore," she placed his compass on the table between them. "But I would like to speak to you, Jack."

"And I suppose that this be a private matter between yourselves?" Barbossa snapped.

"It has nothing whatsoever to do with the ship," Victoria said. "You have my word on that." She caught his eye and gave him a small smile. "Captain."

Barbossa studied her for a moment and nodded.

"Then I'll leave you to it, Miss Turner. Though, if you'll not be staying with us, perhaps you'd do me the courtesy of saying goodbye, for ye've been a grand member of me crew."

"Thank you, sir," she said graciously, watching him out the door. "Now then, Jack, to business."

"I never knew Barbossa was so fond of you, Vicky," he said warily.

"Neither did I," she shrugged adding, with a bitter note in her voice, "But you needn't worry, Jack, as you've already pointed out, I'm far too trustworthy to make a _decent_ pirate."

* * *

She was the first down the gangplank, with her hat tucked down firmly on her head and her hair flowing freely down her back. She had a bag slung over one shoulder, one hand curled around it, the other resting lightly on her pistol.

"As you can see _former_ Admiral Norrington, our Miss Turner has chosen to take her chances in Tortuga rather than remain on the _Black Pearl_."

"Take her chances?" James repeated in disbelief. "This is a pirate port, Sparrow! You're not really going to let her wander off?"

"It's in my best interests," Jack said with a shrug. "Makes good business sense. Now, I take it you'll be leaving too?"

"There's only one thing that would keep me on this ship, Sparrow," James snapped. "As you well know."

"Aye, and there she goes. Wave to her, Norrington. 'Tis only polite."

James made a furious and irritated sound somewhere between a tut and a sigh and pushed past Jack, running down the gangplank, accidentally bumping into Ragetti and inevitably knocking his eye out.

"Oi! Norrington!"

Norrington ignored Jack's calls and headed along the quayside. The traders were starting to drag their wares into the main street and he had lost sight of Victoria in the sudden bustle. He paused, trying to find her when something collided with the side of his head.

"Ow!" he hissed and looked around for the missile. Jack's useless broken compass was at his feet.

"Broken here having the meaning of unique! I want it back, mind!" Jack called, then, seeing that James wasn't moving, waved his hands at him to encourage him.

James snatched up the compass and opened it. Immediately the needle swung to point at the main street and, with a shrug, James followed it.


	12. Chapter 12

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Twelve**

The compass led James away from the main street, then beyond the brothels, right past the laundry woman's house and across several fields until he saw something ahead of him.

It was a small sort of house, tacked onto what he supposed might once have been a tavern.

Out of habit more than worry, he slowed down and moved silently to the door. It was half open and he peered through it to see her sitting on a barrel between the shafts of bright sunlight cutting through the cracks in the wall. She was perfectly still; the hands that had been so tight on her pistol and bag were now relaxed, merely laying there.

He nudged the door slightly to come inside, but it creaked indignantly and fell with a crash, sliding down the stone steps into the main room.

She stood up in one fluid motion, unsheathing her sword so that by the time she was upright, she had her sword out and ready, pointing at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I followed you," he answered, snapping the compass shut and tucking it away. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to live here," she said primly, sheathing her sword and pushing her bag so that it slid further behind her back.

"Here?" James looked around, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the dark and dingy place, the filth on the stone floor and the general dilapidation.

"Yes, here," she sounded annoyed and he tried to rearrange his face into something of a hopeful expression as he looked round again. "Well, not here exactly. This will be my workshop. I'll live next door."

"You're going to be a blacksmith again, then?"

"What else?" she ran a finger along one of the walls. "I went for a walk one day after swimming because it was still too early to wake you up and I thought I'd have a look outside of the town. This is first place I came across. It used to be a forge. Next door used to be a house. It's all fallen into disrepair. I sat here for ages thinking of what needed doing before it could be a working forge again. And it's not much really. Most of the work is just making it habitable. Of course," she added, looking at him. "I quickly put paid to all my plans since I was not in any position to settle at that time."

"It truly doesn't need that much work?" he asked.

"Not really. Just the basics. The harder job is making a home out of the place. But I have gold and it's well situated – the merchants come here because it's a free port and being out here, I can claim no links to piracy. I ought to be able to make a fair bit trading with them."

"Where did you get all that gold?" he asked, indicating the bag she had thrust behind her.

She tried and failed to suppress her grin and finally allowed it spread across her face and beam up at him.

"I struck a deal. Jack gave me some gold to start my business and in return, my home would always be open to him and his crew, my blades always free to them," she smirked slightly. "I made the same deal with Barbossa."

"And I take it neither of them knows about it?"

"Of course not. I told Barbossa I was talking about Elizabeth with Jack and Jack thinks I was saying goodbye to Barbossa. They both accepted my terms. It seems they have both learnt a thing or two from Lord Beckett about good business."

"Pirate," James said, grinning at her.

"Sometimes one must commit an act of piracy to get what one wants."

"Indeed," they fell silent for a moment, and James wondered whether she was thinking about their conversation of the day before too. If she was, he could tell by the proud upward tilt of her chin that she was not going to refer to it. He stepped over the broken door and down into the main room with her. "I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?" her head tilted to the one side and he ignored that questioning note in her voice. It was rather too much like suspicion for his liking.

"Yes. It seems that I owe you a debt. You saved my life. I have no way of repaying you, so perhaps you'll accept my help in getting your forge up and running?"

"You owe me no debt, Norrington. You saved us from the brig, consider my saving you payment for that," she said it brusquely, dusting her hands together. She wanted to put an end to the subject before he could make her another tempting, but completely ridiculous offer.

"I'm afraid I can't. After all, you followed me on my mission to catch Sparrow. You sailed through a hurricane with me. You remained at my side for three months in Tortuga – you were the one that befriended Mary Pegler so we had somewhere to stay. And I paid you back by stealing the heart. Letting you out of the brig does not touch the debt I owe you. A debt increased by what you did to save my life."

She frowned at him and, for a long, painful moment, he thought she would send him packing.

"I consider the fact that you helped us escape, that you crewed the _Empress_ and _Pearl_ diligently, your information about the Armada, your fighting on our side to be payment enough, thank you."

For a second, his heart seemed to sink. Then it rose up, annoyed at her and he felt a smirk growing on his lips as he made her an offer she really couldn't refuse.

"In that case, I have a commission for you."

"A commission?"

"Yes. It seems I am in the market for a sword. Since the best sword I have ever had was made by your hand, I should like another of similar quality. I have no money; I can only offer to work for you as payment."

She struggled for a moment. It made good sense really. And he wasn't asking much in return and she really did need the help if she wanted to be making money sooner rather than later.

"You'd work hard?"

"Of course," he replied, slightly offended.

"All right," she said slowly. "When this place is ready, I will consider your debt paid. And you must accept that. All I ask in return is that you – that you don't mention what occurred on the _Dutchman_."

He nodded and made his way back up the stairs to the empty doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"I have something to return to Jack. And I believe we are in need of a locksmith."


	13. Chapter 13

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Thirteen**

Author's Note: I am attempting here to tread the line between CotBP and DMC James. Hopefully I'm getting it right.

* * *

She was sat outside, hugging the bag of treasure in her lap, watching and waiting for James's return. When she finally saw something lumbering up the track towards her, she realised it was three people and pulled out her pistol. Just in case.

Narrowing her eyes against the bright sun, she recognised one of the figures as James. He was stopping every now and again to help one of his companions. With a start she realised who it was and scrambled up to meet them.

"Mary!" she cried.

"Oh, Miss Turner, of all the bloody places to decide to set up home," but the woman stopped huffing and puffing as Victoria grabbed her in a tight hug.

Mary Peglar was a plump woman in her mid-forties, with a round and pretty face, glowing red from all her time over a boiling tub of washing. She had come across Victoria and James sitting in the gutter outside of an alehouse a few nights after their arrival in Tortuga. Mary's swift, searching glance had told Victoria that she had been recognised as a woman and both she and James soon had a place to stay in Mary's small house, which smelt strongly of dirty washing and hot soap.

"Master Kildare," James said, leading the man away from the two women. "I'd like locks on the doors, please. And I would like the work completed by tonight."

"Dinnae 'bout that, lad…"

"You will have my assistance and will be well paid for it."

The man grunted and went to study the door with James at his side. Mary sat on a sunny clump of grass and pulled Victoria down at her side with a soft _flump_.

"I got that message from the lad on the docks about you two taking up on the _Black Pearl_," she said. "Oh, but such things I've heard since! They were saying the _Pearl_ was taken by that beast of Davy Jones! But then I heard that the Court was convened and that the _Black Pearl_ was among the ships making for Shipwreck Cove."

"Your sources are as good as ever, Mary."

"It can't all be true."

"Oh, it is and more besides…"

"Well then, you can tell me everything on the way."

"On the way where?"

"You'll be needing bedding and whatnot. You can't sleep on that filthy floor. No, lass, there's lots as get left at a laundry woman's house and I can't carry it all."

"But –"

"No buts. Leave your man to deal with Kildare."

"He's not my man," Victoria retorted huffily, getting up.

* * *

It was a few days later, with locks on actual doors and the windows scrubbed bright, that there was a knock on the door.

"Must be Mary," Victoria said. "She said she'd try and call in today."

James opened the door and grabbed hold of the man that tumbled into his arms. Victoria propped her broom against the wall and wiped her hands on her trousers. She stared at the head propped on James's forearm and instantly recognised the bushy whiskers.

"Mister Gibbs?" she said. "What are you doing here? Jack dropped by this morning to say you were off this afternoon. He's got a letter for Elizabeth from me."

"Barbossa's taken the _Pearl_," Gibbs said, straightening up, using James as support, completely missing the look the two exchanged. "Jack's gone after him. Only room in the boat for one. Don't suppose you'd put me up, eh, Vicky?"

He let go of James and promptly fell over, curling up at the top of the stairs, snoring.

* * *

It was a week after Gibbs's arrival that James started to bring her gifts.

Mary and Victoria were taking a well deserved break from the cleaning, sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine.

Victoria was lying back with her eyes closed, comfortable and content and was unwilling to open them when Mary nudged her.

"You'll want to see this, lass."

"… Stupid bloody beast!"

Gibbs's roar was distant, but furious and Victoria sat up to squint down the track. James and Gibbs were struggling up to the house. She could see their backs straining as they pulled on something. The two women went down to meet them and Victoria stared at the thing on the end of the rope.

"You've brought me a donkey?" she asked James.

"You had one in Port Royal," he said, still tugging on the rope. "Don't you need one?"

She looked at him; his was face shining with sweat, damp hair sticking to his forehead. She wondered how on earth he had got it. She glanced at Gibbs, who was tugging furiously on the rope, sporting a rather large bruise that was almost, but not quite, lost in his whiskers. She decided she didn't want to know what they had done to get it. Instead, she grinned at them both.

"Well done! Well, James, it looks like I can finally get to work on that sword of yours."

The look on his face was an odd one of relief and delight, mixed with something else. For a moment she thought maybe he didn't want her to start work on the sword, but she brushed it off and started to coax the donkey up the track, taking Gibbs's dropped rope as Mary fussed over his bruised face.

* * *

Another gift was a rather oddly shaped thing that James carted up the track alone, on his head. The door of the forge creaked open and Gibbs poked his head in, cackling.

"The lad's brought you a present, Vicky."

"Oh, Joshamee, I'm busy. If he wants this sword finished before Christmas, I really can't come in and out every time he brings something up here. I'll see it when I'm finished here."

She was harsher than she intended to be and Gibbs's smile faltered.

"I'll go and help him then."

She was alone in the forge for a long time, the clanging of her hammer falling into a steady rhythm that soothed the unnecessary flash of temper.

James had already dragged an iron bedstead up the track the day before and Mary had shrieked with alarm and laughter as she watched the two men struggle with getting it into the house. Victoria had to admit however, that once Mary had done it up with unclaimed bedding from her laundry, it was the best sleep she had had in a long time.

She studied the blade she had produced and was satisfied. It was fine to be going on with the next day. She wiped her hand on her apron, pulled it off and hung it up by the door that led into the house. Mary was hovering by the kitchen door at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mind you'll be pleased, won't you, dear?" she said and Victoria realised that Gibbs must have mentioned her earlier sharpness. "For he did go to a lot of trouble for you. And 'tis very thoughtful of him."

Victoria didn't answer, just ran up the stairs to her room, shoving the door open to stare in shock at James. He was putting a towel on her bed and between them stood a large zinc bath. She could tell from its gleam that it had been scrubbed clean and the water in it steamed and glittered welcomingly in the candlelight.

"Victoria, I – I was just… Mary had towels, you see, and I brought one so you… would have one. She's made a stew for dinner and she found a dress your size in the laundry. I'll… leave you to your…"

He was going pink; Victoria noticed and continued to stare at him.

"A bathtub?" she said foolishly.

"Yes. You – uh – you were saying to Mary last night that your work made you… So I thought you'd like it."

She was suddenly aware that she looked, as always at the end of the day, a sight. She was wearing Will's old cast-offs, the same ones she had being wearing for what felt like years. She was sweating all over, her hair a tangled, damp mess and she was sure she had smudged dirt across her face. She realised that the smell of scorched metal and donkey was coming from her.

A smile was hovering about his lips, as though waiting for her approval and suddenly she didn't care that she looked a mess, all she cared about was that hot steaming water and the new, clean dress laid out for her.

"Thank you," she said softly and the smile on his lips grew as he left her to it.

* * *

The day she gave him his sword she did so with a new sense of pride because she was able to take the credit for it. She had done the best she could with the materials available and had rather recklessly melted down some of the last of their gold to add the filigree to the handle.

He took it from her reverentially and studied it. He balanced it on the side of his hand, then tossed it up in the air. She felt a thrill at seeing it in such use, seeing how well balanced it was, how light.

But the bubble of pride was pricked as she realised that the debt was paid and then some. He had helped her start her business, as promised, and her home was comfortable thanks to his efforts, as well as Gibbs' and Mary's. There was now no reason for him to stay with her.

And yet she wondered where he could go. He stood before her, some odd concoction of the Commodore he had been and the pirate he so nearly was. No wig, but his hair was tied back neatly, with a day's stubble on his face. His clothes, donated by the ever kind Mary, were clean and as neat as they could be. His stance, as always, was upright and somehow, with that sword in his hand, proud.

"Aye," Gibbs said, nodding sagely. "'Tis sure a thing of rare beauty."

"It is a pity I'll have no reason to put it into practice," James sighed, sheathing it at his side and letting his hand rest on the hilt.

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked quickly.

"Well, there's no ship for me to sail on. I wonder if you would let me stay? At least until the _Pearl_ returns."

"You'd sail on the _Pearl_?"

"I don't know," he said simply, but the way he met her eyes was not simple at all.


	14. Chapter 14

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Fourteen**

It was growing dark around them as James and Victoria sat side-by-side outside the forge. Inside, they could hear the steady rumble of Gibbs's voice and Mary's regular squawking laughter. Victoria had a letter to Elizabeth at her side, she had abandoned it to watch the sun set and was now sitting with her chin propped on her knees.

James was leaning back on his elbows, long legs stretched out in front of him, playing with the blades of grass beneath his fingertips.

The silence that hung between the two of them was neither tense nor awkward. Over the past months it had gradually dissolved back into the companionable silence they had often enjoyed on their evening walks in Port Royal.

Below them, Tortuga was ablaze with the orange of oil lamps spilling from open tavern doors. There was the occasional raucous shout that reached them, the odd bang of a pistol or clang of a sword.

"If you don't think about what half of them are getting up to down there, it's almost beautiful," James commented eventually.

There was the unmistakable sound of a pistol shot and an indignant roar. Victoria laughed.

"Yes, very beautiful."

"Perhaps not," he answered with a smile. "But I have never felt as content as I do here. And I never thought I'd say that."

"I never thought I'd hear it."

"Do you ever miss Port Royal?"

"I miss Will," she said sadly, a keening feeling starting in her chest as she said it, ignoring the other face that swam into her mind when she said her brother's name. "I miss Elizabeth. If only Jack or Barbossa would come with a letter. I've written her seven already and put them away for when one of them comes. But no, I don't miss Port Royal."

"Neither do I. When I returned, it was not the Port Royal of your youth."

"No. Beckett saw to that."

"It wasn't just that. The blacksmith's was closed, boarded up. I have no idea where Brown had gone. There were no more parties at the Governor's house. Will never came to the fort to collect our commissions. I never saw you to talk to on the quayside in the evenings."

She was silent, the remembrance of such easy times made her uncomfortable. Her brother was gone, Elizabeth miles away, she found parts of her self unrecognisable and James knew her far too well.

"I want you to know how much I realised your worth when I was in Port Royal last," James continued quietly.

"James…"

"Please. I must say this. I have gone on too long in silence. You have always been – dear to me, Victoria. I have always considered your friendship as the most valuable in my life and that conviction grew when I found myself without it. I came to realise that you, as well as your friendship, are – infinitely dear to me."

She risked a glance at him and found that he was looking up at her, propped on one elbow now. She couldn't really see his face, but the lights from the streets below twinkled in his eyes.

"I have… I have always loved you, Victoria."

"Enough," she made to stand, scrabbling around for her letter when he grabbed her wrist and held her tight.

"You haven't forgiven me, have you? For betraying you – for being the reason you had to hurt your father."

"You promised never to speak of that!"

"I'm sorry. As I have always been for everything."

"It wasn't your fault," she said tightly. "I did what had to be done. One day I shall be able to ask his forgiveness. You wished to escape a life of piracy; I cannot blame you for that, knowing you as I do."

"And yet, it turns out that it is you that have saved me from a life of piracy."

"And offered you the life of blacksmith's apprentice. Hardly a life befitting an Admiral."

"Perhaps," he answered mildly. "But it is the life Jack's compass led me to."

"Pardon?"

"Jack's compass. He gave it to me the day we docked on Tortuga, that was what I had to return to him. I followed it and here I am."

"The compass led you to this?" she said, gesturing behind her, intending to take in the meagreness of their existence.

Only, it wasn't so meagre. The house had become a home and Mary had long since given up on returning to her laundry house every night, instead taking the room opposite Victoria's. A room Victoria regularly heard Gibbs creep into. The kitchen was full of cured hams, bought from the payments the merchants were steadily making for their wares. The house was always full of the scent of Mary's excellent cooking and Gibbs's laughter.

The light in the kitchen spilled out onto the grass beside them, the warm scent of the forge – scorched metal and donkey – filling the air.

"The compass," James said patiently. "Led me to you."

"Sometimes it is not best to get the thing your heart desires most," she focused on the streets below them, but the lights only reminded her of how they had looked reflected in his eyes. There was a tight, trapped feeling in her chest and she felt that if she didn't _do_ something, something awful would happen.

"Why not?" James asked. "I have been happier here than I have ever been," she shot him an accusing look that he seemed to catch the meaning of even in the dark. "Yes, even when I was Commodore, when I thought I had achieved so much, I was proud, but not exactly happy. But, as I've said before, I am at your service. I am yours to command and if you bid me leave; I'll go and go forever. But if you bid me stay…"

"Don't go," she whispered suddenly, breathing out the words as though trying to deal with something that hurt.

"Pardon?"

"Don't go," she turned to look at him, smoothing her skirt distractedly, unable to meet his eyes. "Will has gone, Elizabeth too. Must I lose everyone I love?"

He sat up straight and laid a hand gently on her cheek. After a moment, he brought the other one up to cup the other cheek.

"You will never lose me," he said firmly. It was his turn to notice the lights of Tortuga glimmering in her eyes, but only for a moment, before they disappeared as she closed them. He dropped an experimental kiss on her lips, pulling away quickly. "Marry me, Victoria."

The grass beneath her seemed to melt away and she was very glad she wasn't standing. She tried to conjure up her father, the feel of the blade sliding into him, the look of confusion on his face. But instead, in her mind's eye, she saw James, the way he had looked down at her when she had stepped so close to insist he came with her, the feel of his body between her legs as she dragged him overboard. She remembered, suddenly, that night in Tortuga when he had tried to kiss her.

She sighed, a resigned sort of sound as all the fight left her, and opened her eyes. She covered one of the hands he still had resting on her cheek, placed the other on his chest and leaned her forehead against his.

"Yes."


	15. Epilogue: Part I

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Fifteen: Epilogue - Part I**

Author's Note: As the epilogue was so long, I've split it into two parts to make it easier to digest. It's ten years later, but there are flashbacks so you know what's happened in the intervening ten years.

* * *

As the _Pearl _neared Shipwreck, Victoria fell steadily quieter and James guided their children further away from her, to leave her to her thoughts. In almost ten years of marriage, he had grown used to these occasional bouts of silence and found she returned to her usual cheerfulness much quicker if left alone than if he tried to talk to her.

There were quite a few of them crammed into the longboat – James, Victoria and their four young children, along with Gibbs and Jack. She turned white as they rowed to the island and sought James's hand with her own cold and clammy one.

"Will Grandpapa have barnacles?" seven-year-old Katherine asked.

Victoria turned a fiercely incredulous look on James, who looked alarmed and shook his head quickly. Gibbs coughed and offered her a sheepishly apologetic smile.

"No, Katie," Victoria said after a moment, glaring at Gibbs. "Your Uncle Will saved him from that."

* * *

Mary was moving restlessly around the room, glancing every now and again out of the window and tutting loudly. Victoria was ignoring her. She was in bed, with one arm curled round her week-old son, while she held Elizabeth's letter up to the candle beside the bed.

"She says young William has Will's eyes," Victoria commented. "I hope I'll have chance to write a longer letter about Thomas. I've only scribbled a note so far. And we must announce you properly to your Aunt, mustn't we, Thomas James Norrington?"

She ran her curled index finger along her son's cheek and he opened his eyes blearily. He made a snuffling, gurgling sound, shifted slightly and fell silent. She could feel the soft warmth of his skin through his cotton clothing and shifted her hand slightly, so that it was splayed across his chest, where it could feel the reassuring thump of his heart.

"You ought not to have let him go, Victoria," Mary said suddenly, seeming not to have heard what Victoria said. "Fancy letting him go off drinking with pirates!"

"Oh, Mary, he's not touched a drop for over a year and he's every right to celebrate the birth of his first-born-son. Besides, Joshamee insisted."

"Humph!" Mary grunted, looking out the window again.

Victoria smiled, sensing that Mary's bad mood had more to do with Joshamee's immediate removal to the nearest tavern an hour after he arrived back in Tortuga with the _Pearl, _than with anything else. Mary fixed Victoria with a beady stare.

"I'm just saying the drink 'twas the ruin of him last time."

"Oh, no," Victoria replied lightly. "I was the ruin of him last time. Will and I really. When we freed Jack."

Mary didn't answer; she had heard drunken laughter not far from the house and was peering through the curtains again.

"Here they come – drunk as lords. You'd think Joshamee had been away from a Tortuga tavern three years, not three months."

"Tell them to keep it down, will you, Mary?" Victoria said, lowering the letter again to study her dozing son. "I don't want them to wake Tom."

Victoria had barely gotten out of bed to put Tom in his cot before Mary had swept out of the room. Victoria could hear her hissing savagely at the drunken pirates and herding them into the forge, where there were several palettes made up for them.

"Oh, Mary, my sweet lass," Gibbs cried, his voice carrying through the house and up the stairs. "Have you no kinder words for me when I've been away so long? No kinder welcome?"

Victoria bit her lip to stop herself smiling and settled Tom down, pausing for a moment as he stirred and wrapped his tiny fingers around her thumb. A vicious sort of love welled up in her, bringing with it an inexplicable urge to cry. Gently, she extracted her thumb and kissed his head, climbing back into bed.

"And you, James Norrington," she heard Mary snap. "Your poor wife and child up there alone all evening, with only Elizabeth's letters for company. And you – roaring drunk! You ought to be ashamed! Not a sound on your way up, the wee lad's just settled."

Victoria sat waiting, listening to James slow and deliberate journey up the stairs. He lurched into the room, hanging onto the door handle and mimicked her immediate gesture of finger on lips. He was stubbly and red-faced, but he grinned adoringly at her and any thought that she ought to be angry with him vanished.

He shuffled over to the cot on her side of the bed and smiled down at his son, flashing her that brilliant grin again.

He climbed onto the bed beside her, fully-clothed and smelling of rum, exactly as she remembered him from over a year ago.

"You really are nothing like your brother, you know," he said in a low voice, stroking the hair back from her face and tucking it clumsily behind her ear. He leaned in close and she put a hand to his shoulder to stop him, thinking she had heard Tom stir. "Ah," he said. "That way lays disaster."

"You remember that?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"My drunken attempt at kissing you? Oh yes. I've never been so gratefully disappointed in all my life."

She smiled and slipped her arms round his neck, kissing him gently, finding for the first time what rum tasted like inside his mouth. Pulling away, he nuzzled her neck, then settled his head there and began to snore.

* * *

Young William and Tom ran ahead of the others to watch the _Dutchman_'s steady progression towards them. By the time Tom's younger brother and sisters and the adults had caught up to them, two figures in a longboat were already halfway to shore.

Victoria felt the colour rush back to her face, a warm fidgeting joy start in the base of her stomach and swell up through her chest until she couldn't contain herself.

"_Will_," she breathed and without thinking, turned and raced along the path down the cliff.

By the time she reached the shore, her brother was clambering out the longboat. He looked up and saw her running towards him and went to meet her, laughing, with his arms open.

"Will!" she cried, leaping into his arms. "Will. Oh, Will."

She was gasping, not really from the exertion, but the thrill of seeing him, the wonderful familiar solidness of him as he held her. She clung tightly round his neck and already felt a desperate mounting sense of loss that he might be gone by sunset.

She pulled away and Will was grinning at her, studying her face.

"You haven't changed, Vicky," he said, though she knew it was a lie. His gaze flickered over her shoulder and his eyes widened. "Are these…?"

She glanced back, to see that the others had followed. James and her children were coming towards them, Elizabeth and William bringing up the rear.

"Yes."

"I ought to have given you away," he said, glancing shrewdly at James.

"I couldn't have waited – not even for you. But Elizabeth _is_ waiting, Will."

Slightly ashamed of herself, Victoria gave her brother a nudge towards his wife. He made his way slowly, as though unable to believe she was there. When he reached her, he put his arms around her delicately, reverently. They stood like that for a moment, William watching them closely. Then, still holding each other, they turned and Elizabeth introduced Will to his son. Will, still holding Elizabeth's hand, sank to his knees before the boy.

Victoria, feeling almost content, turned back to the longboat and came face-to-face with her father.

* * *

James had been sitting on the hard-backed chair outside the room for hours, when he wasn't guiding Tom and Katie back to their room, with gentle suggestions of what to play and soft reassurances that their mother was fine.

The soft reassurances had been difficult because when Mary had herded him out of his bedroom earlier in the day, it was not in the same brisk way she had done when Tom and Katie were born. And sure enough, he had not been beckoned in to have a child placed in his arms shortly after his dismissal.

When Victoria's howls of "_James_!" were particularly emphatic, he had burst in, objecting fiercely when Mary had bundled him out again. Mary's anxious expression swam before him as he dozed fitfully in the chair, having exhausted himself with pacing.

"A boy and a girl."

The weary voice made him jump and when he looked up, Mary was pushing her hair back off her face, looking about ready to drop. Her complete exhaustion was also something new to James and, terrified, he brushed past her to go into the room. He froze in the doorway, staring at the wreckage of the crumpled and bloody sheets in the corner. He looked at his wife then, she was chalk coloured, her skin barely indistinguishable from her white nightgown and the fresh sheets that Mary had hastily thrown over her.

"Victoria?" he choked out, offering it to Mary almost as a question. He started towards Victoria's prone body, feeling a wild, brutal horror rear up inside him.

"She's asleep," Mary whispered, grabbing his arm. "She's worn out, poor little thing. The litt'luns are fine," James looked for the first time over at the cot, where he could see a tangle of limbs waving in the air. "They're a good strong pair. But – James, lad – there'll be no more for the two of you."

"No more?" he echoed in a hollow voice.

"Children, I mean. She won't be able to – after this. No matter if you try."

"But you said she will live," he said, turning to Mary, the stubble and the circles under his eyes horribly dark against his pale skin. "You said they will all be all right."

"They will. But she'll need rest, lad. A good couple of months bed rest. You'll have to do what you can in the forge and I'll take care of Tom and Katie and help her with these two."

"Can't you take care of them?" he asked desperately, settling cautiously on the bed at Victoria's side.

"Aye, but 'tis best if I help her with them. She would not want them taken from her. I'll see she won't exert herself. Smile, lad, you've a bonny pair there."

James peered for the first time into the crib to see his two youngest and last children gurgling gummily up at him. Taking Victoria's warm hand, the fingers of it curling unconsciously round his, he managed a smile.


	16. Epilogue: Part II

**_A Line In The Sand  
_Chapter Sixteen: Epilogue - Part II**

Author's Note: This is part two of the epilogue and the last part of the fic! There's no flashbacks here, I hope they weren't too confusing in the last chapter. Which means this whole chapter is set ten years after the rest of the fic and in the last chapter, we left Victoria staring at her father...

* * *

"Whelks!" Gibbs said suddenly and James looked at him as though he was mad. "C'mon, your mother and grandfather have a lot to discuss. Jack will help us find some whelks. Won't you, Jack?"

Jack blinked and surveyed the children with a slightly wrinkled nose. Gibbs gave him a pointed stare and Jack sighed, before nodding.

"Aye. Let's try over there," and he pointing vaguely to the other end of the shore.

Reluctantly, the children followed Gibbs, young George looking longingly at Bootstrap's face, as though for trace of a barnacle. His twin Joanna tugged his arm, though she also seemed transfixed.

"I'll, uh, go with them then," Jack said, glancing from Bootstrap to Victoria. He started to leave, then turned back to give Bootstrap's hand a quick shake. "Good to see you again, mate," he studied at his own palm and appeared satisfied. "Especially when you're not bearing bad news. I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. Or newly acquainted, as the case may be."

Jack turned, herding the lingering twins awkwardly in front of him.

James stood to one side, uncertain. Then, annoyed at his own foolishness, reminded himself he was neither a boy nor a newlywed and stepped behind Victoria. He placed his hands on her hips and leaned round to kiss her cheek.

"I'll keep an eye on them," he murmured.

Her hands darted to his arms as they pulled away from her and he slipped them back for a moment to give her a gentle squeeze, so that when he pulled away, she let him go.

Victoria watched him go for a moment, and then looked back at her father. He was still staring at James and the children, then cast her the same bewildered look he had when she had impaled him. She looked away, studying a pebble at the hem of her dress.

"Will you walk with me?" Bootstrap said suddenly. When she looked up, he was offering her his arm and she recoiled inwardly. "It's been a long time since I felt the earth beneath my feet."

Hesitantly, she took his arm, squeezing it slightly to feel the solid, warm flesh beneath his shirt rather than the soft, rotting mush through which she had run a sword.

"Tell me about your life," he said after a moment.

She noticed there was still a damp sound in his voice, as though there was water in his lungs, and wondered whether that had been the voice he had wooed her mother with. But he did look like Will now, she noted. There was something in his face that reminded her of Will, though his blue eyes were hers.

"Tell me how you became a wife and mother," he said when she remained silent. "Tell me so I can picture it, so I can imagine I was there."

They had reached a jumble of boulders and Bootstrap inclined his head, indicating that she should sit. She did so, smoothing her dress neatly around her, not looking at him. She toyed with the idea of stating the bald facts, the events and their dates, but when she looked up, he was sitting at her side, waiting patiently, and she couldn't do it.

She started at docking in Tortuga, then told him how she had acquired the gold from Barbossa and Jack, jumping when he laughed. She skipped over the months before she married James, but lingered over the births of her children and Barbossa and Jack's visits, slipping in anecdotes from Elizabeth's letters.

"Jack's got the _Pearl_ now. Elizabeth said she heard Barbossa was in Singapore. It's only a matter of time before he comes after the _Pearl_ again..." she tailed off, wondering what to say next.

"You waited how long to marry him?" Bootstrap asked, peering down the beach at James's tall figure.

"Just over three months," she said.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes. I…" she studied her fingers, slightly embarrassed. "I have loved him from the moment I met him."

"Then why wait months until you married him? Will and Elizabeth did not."

"I didn't think he loved me," she replied evasively. "We had always been friends. Then, when he convinced me that he did love me… I hardly felt I deserved it."

"Why would you think such a thing?"

"I – I chose him… Over my own father," she met his eyes at last. "Over you."

"Aye," he nodded. "Perhaps you did. And I'm glad of it. For if you had not, you would have hated me. And the woman I'd be meeting today would be a lonely one. No. 'Tis better that you are happy. That is all I ever wanted for you. That you should find greater happiness than my Caroline found with me. And he is a good man, I think, to save my daughter when I could not."

"You forgive me then?" she asked, feeling slightly dizzy.

"Forgive you?" he looked confused. "Victoria, I never blamed you."

She laughed suddenly and Bootstrap leaned back a little as the tears poured down her face and tapped her knee absently as she rummaged for a handkerchief. She wiped her face and shook her hair back, smiling, though her face was still red and blotchy. When she stood up, she extended her hand to him.

"Come and meet your grandchildren, Father."

* * *

"Will talks about you."

James didn't answer for a moment; he continued examining the knuckles Joanna had scraped on a rock. He ran his thumb over her knuckles and dropped a quick kiss on them.

"No harm done," he said, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and kissing her forehead. "Off you go, darling."

He gave her a gentle nudge and she turned to run back to her twin, pausing only to wave at her grandfather. James straightened up and faced Bootstrap.

"Mister Turner," he said, nodding. "I assume your son doesn't think I am a good choice for his sister?"

Bootstrap waved his hand carelessly.

"He says you are a good man, though you never saw eye-to-eye."

"No," James allowed himself a slight smile. "He was always more rash than I."

"Yes," Bootstrap agreed, watching the children tumbling together with Will further down the beach. "I can imagine that. My daughter loves you very much, you know. She says she loved you from the moment she met you. And she was fourteen when she met you."

James shifted, embarrassed and looked away from Bootstrap.

"I know. Although I was not always aware of her feelings. Or mine, for that matter."

"And you love her?" Bootstrap had folded his arms now, watching James instead of the children.

"I would not have married her if I had not."

"No. But Will says you made an offer to Elizabeth."

"I did. Years ago now. Another lifetime," James felt himself bristling under his father-in-law's scrutiny and lifted his chin higher, never wavering in eye-contact.

"And yet you still say you love my daughter?"

"I do. Forgive me, Mister Turner, but I believe I know my feelings and my reasons better than you."

"Then explain to me. For I'd like to know that the man my daughter chose was worth it."

"That has tormented her," James said sharply, understanding exactly what Bootstrap meant. "Had I known how much it would devastate her, I would rather you had killed me."

Bootstrap raised his eyebrows slightly and shifted, unfolding his arms to tuck them in his pockets.

"I've already told her she chose the best course. She is as happy as I could wish and I have you to thank for it."

"You needn't thank me. I have been happy too. More than happy."

"No regrets then?"

"If you are referring to Elizabeth – no. None," James heard the irritation creep into his voice and struggled to quell it. "I – have always loved Victoria. Fool that I was, I chose to ignore how important she was in my life. I chose to honour society and my place in it above everything else. It was only when I returned to my old life, having known what it was to live free of such confinements that I realised her full value in my life. I do not expect you or Will to understand. I treated her badly – I did not show her the same loyalty that she showed me. That is my one regret. But she has forgiven me. And for that, I must have done something right."

"Aye," Bootstrap nodded, appraising him. "You are precisely the sort of man I would have chosen for her. You might have made mistakes, lad, but you're as straight as she is deep down. You've managed to make her happy for ten years – I did not manage two, though I loved her mother very much. You may not think much of me – I abandoned my wife and children to go pirating, something you'd never do – but I never forgot them. I always loved them."

"Father, George is determined that you must still have a barnacle somewhere," Victoria said, coming over.

"Then perhaps I ought to prove it to him," he laughed, rolling up his sleeves.

Victoria watched him walk away and then tiptoed slightly to murmur in James's ear, "What were you two talking about for so long?"

"Your father was – I think – trying to ascertain my intentions."

"Intentions?" Victoria raised her eyebrows. "Surely he's ten years too late?"

"As he himself pointed out – you are still his daughter. I would do the same for Katie and Joanna."

"And what did you tell him, James?"

"That I regretted nothing except hurting you. That I always loved you. He seemed content with that," she had slipped her arms around his waist and he ran his hands up her arms before going on. "Victoria… he said he told you that you had made the right choice, that day on the _Dutchman_..."

"He did say that, yes."

"For ten years, that has been the one dark spot; you know that, don't you? It has not affected our happiness or our children's, but I have always known it haunted you and I have been at a loss…" he trailed his hand along her shoulder, bringing it to rest at her neck.

"I know. I know you wanted to help me, but there was nothing you could do. I put it away, as best I could, until I could ask his forgiveness."

"But sometimes, you would fall so silent…"

"Yes," she stepped closer to him, tightening her arms around his waist. "James, the worst of it is, the thing I could not put from my mind, was that I did not regret it. That is, I regretted hurting him, but I did not regret choosing you over him. That is why I pulled away from you."

"I thought that it was because you wished to punish yourself for doing it."

"You were right. And I thought it wrong to marry the man whose life I did not regret valuing over my father's. But you... " she reached up to curl her fingers into his hair. "James, I've loved you since I was fourteen years old. And when you stayed to help me start the blacksmiths, you proved to me that you were worth it. If it were to be anyone that I chose over my own flesh and blood, it was not so wrong that it was you."

He kissed her, pulling her even closer and the shadow that drifted between them for ten years evaporated in the deep red of sunset. They slipped their arms around each others waists and wandered back to the others, who were roasting whelks on a fire. Will looked up when he saw them approach and gave his sister an approving smile.

"I think you'll make a blacksmith of him yet, Vicky."

* * *

**_The End._**

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I was very worried about posting an OC story because I know how unpopular they are, so your support and reviews really gave me the confidence to continue. If you want to read more from this particular AU, I've posted the Deleted Scenes. There's seven, all of which take place during and just after _Curse of the Black Pearl_ because I felt that particular film got the short end of the stick in this fic because I was so desperate to get onto the next chapter and the action. All of them are James/Victoria, with the exception of the last one, which is Will, Elizabeth and Governor Swann.


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